In the heart of uncertainty, there lies the curdled whisper of a forgotten cheese.
It gazes with milky eyes into the abyss, and the abyss gazes back, subtly perturbed.
Once, it was a wheel of triumph, now it is a wheel of secretive dread,
resting on a shelf in the cellar of time, surrounded by the shadows of midnight.
Do you dare to slice into its core? Or will you let it rot, unbothered by the knife,
in the crypt of old delicacies, where even the rats fear to tread?